As most of you know, my inaugural post sent shockwaves throughout the blathersphere yesterday. The Daily Kos referred to me as an intriguing unknown quantity, and David Horowitz called me a limp-wristed degenerate. In the midst of this insane circus I sometimes wonder if the time might not be right for me to retire from public view. But before you all start inundating me with letters telling me how much you love me and begging me to hang on and fight the good fight, remember that, in terms of sensory development, I have difficulty in isolating your letters and emails as discrete objects in my field of vision.
posted by The Leo at 6:05 PM
4 Comments:
So that others may understand the quirks of your sensory perception, Leo, I share this picture of myself (taken under circumstances I choose not to discuss in this distinguished venue) -- rather akin, I suspect, to the view from the 5-month-old eyes of your prostrate self. It is a unique perspective, to be sure, one that the blogosphere certainly cannot do without! It's not only the chicks who dig you, Leo, but the isolates, the homebound, the underproductive white-collar labor force -- all of us who live and move and have our being online.
Dear obfuscator -- I have exactly the motivation infused into me by my indolent father and the ultimate inertia of the universe itself.
Please to explain, please, the properties of "carnitine", "taurine", and "Magical"
Dear chager -- your photo reflects a man at once genial and circumspect, forthright and judicious, but that may just be the glare.
But know, sir, that I do not fail to recognize the thinly veiled reference to myself in your enumeration of the isolate, the homebound and the unproductive. I will have you know, sir, that my productivity has rocketed -- sometimes literally -- upon my new regimen of rice cereal.
Dear jem -- In my case, the inscrutable gods that have encephagantized me have at least transformed my garments as well to put me in some identifiable kind of New York Yankee baseballer context (such is their little joke) -- whereas the particular distention issuing from your particular neck, I'm afraid to say, is almost completely alien to any human context outside of a David Lynch film.
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